


A Little Unconventional

by eltrut07



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, Mary Ships It, Parentlock, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 03, Romance, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3721420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eltrut07/pseuds/eltrut07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is Moriarty really back, or was the video-posted at the exact time that Sherlock Holmes was being exiled-  a little too convenient?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Unconventional

**Author's Note:**

> My twist on how/why the Moriarty video was posted at that exact moment.

John felt his lips move, almost smiling as he licked his lower lip, the rest of his body was tense, his right hand clenching and un-clenching. He was trying very hard to keep it together, but at this point, after another curve ball he was almost at his breaking point. 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, no, run that by me again.” he forced out, his head cocking slightly to the side, his back straight as a rod. 

In front of him, Lestrade sighed, running a hand over his face before resting it on his hip and looking at John, pityingly, he was pitying him. “Look, I don’t understand what’s going on anymore than you do.” Lestrade paused and his mouth slid in to a frown, eyes weary, which was better than pity. 

John despised pity. 

He was a soldier damnitt. 

“We got a call from Mycroft, his people had tracked down the signal-“

“You mean Sherlock. Sherlock tracked down-“

Lestrade roughly shook his head, throwing an arm out in a stop gesture, his other hand still at his waist, “No, no the actual M16 or whoever works for Mycroft, Sherlock had nothing to do with their discovery.” 

John scrunched his nose, wiggled the fingers of his right hand and gave a slight nod. Lestrade brought the hand not at his waist to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I know it looks bad. It is bad. I wish I had more for you.” 

John knew that the only reason why Lestrade didn’t know more was because instead of being at the Yard, doing his job, he came to let John know what was going on. There was no reason why a Detective Inspector would have to be doing family round up. And if he weren’t so overwhelmed with anger and confusion he would be pleased with Lestrade’s gesture. 

“When Mycroft told us to report to Baker Street, well we were all expecting the worst now weren’t we? Moriarty’s face plastered all over London and then Mycroft tells us a few days later to report to Baker Street immediately.” Lestrade sighed. 

The image of Sherlock falling through the air, his blood spread on the pavement, and the lack of pulse all rapidly ran across John’s mind, as they did whenever Sherlock was in danger, or that day was mentioned. 

As did the night he found Sherlock almost dead, a bullet torn through his flesh and blood pouring from his body. 

He closed his eyes briefly. It wasn’t real. And opened them. 

“They were just sitting there…his highness in his throne and,” Lestrade cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable, “well before we could even ask what was going on-“

“Stop.” John said, clearing his own throat and shaking his head. 

“I’m sorry mate, she confessed on her own free will.” Lestrade said, his pitying look back. 

“Just. Stop.” John said, voice weak but rough.

Lestrade nodded. “Yeah alright.” He pursed his lips and grabbed his phone from his pocket, reading the screen. “Best be on our way.” 

John kept his mouth shut, afraid of what might burst through if he opened it. He stepped forward, following Lestrade out of the door, his eyes lingering on the picture of him and Mary, faces smashed together as they laughed while on their honeymoon. 

John couldn’t help but pause, his mind unable to comprehend how so much could have changed since that seemingly perfect moment, both him and Mary so happy to be married and soon to be parents. 

John heard Lestrade paused at the base of his steps and he pulled his gaze from the picture, closing the door as he left their cozy home. And if he closed it a little bit harder than he should have, Lestrade certainly wasn’t going to mention it. 

**  
He stood, barely aware of his body but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered except for the happenings of the people in the room in front of him. The words, coming from a melodic voice, one that had saved John in ways only one other person had been able to do, was now speaking words and sentences that barely made sense to John’s rattled brain. 

A couple of times he swore she looked up and made direct eye contact with him, and while with anyone else but maybe Sherlock he would have thought it impossible, he had learned to never be surprised by his wife. Or so he thought. 

“Here.” John held out his hand, fingers reflexively curling around the warm cup, brushing accidently against long fingers. He didn’t say thank you, he didn’t take a sip and he didn’t avert his eyes from the room. 

Silence stretched on as the conversation, or confession, paused for a moment, the detective handling the case scribbling something down on a piece of paper, Mary’s barrister whispering something in her ear. 

The questioning continued. John’s coffee, or what he assumed was coffee from the smell, grew cold. 

The detective finally asked the question that John had been waiting for, the three letters that he seemed to always have to ask those that he loved. Mary did not answer. Her barrister jumped in, talking about legal rights and motive being unnecessary in light of a full confession. 

John stared at Mary. Mary stared right at John. Her eyes softened. His hardened, closed, and he lightly rest his forehead against the glass. 

“Why?” he asked, his voice raspy from emotion and exhaustion. 

For a moment there was dead silence. John wondered if he had imagined the comforting presence beside him. 

“I don’t know-“ John barked out a laugh, cutting Sherlock off. There was a pause, a soft sigh, and then, “I have a theory, but I really think you should ask Mary, not me.” 

John closed his eyes; he felt the coffee cup being removed from his hand-heard the slight tap it gave when Sherlock placed it on the desk behind them. 

“She is nine months pregnant.” John angrily muttered. “Why would she do this?”

Sherlock was silent beside him. John wondered what was going on in his head. What was the great Sherlock Holmes, brilliant made genius that he was, thinking about this whole mess? 

A hand softly landed on his shoulder, obviously mindful of his old injury, even when he needn’t worry, Sherlock gently squeezed John’s arm. 

“Knock, knock, Doctor, she wants to speak to you.” Sally said, voice gentle as she walked in the room. Sherlock didn’t move away from him at first, John still had his eyes closed but he could practically hear the silent conversation between Sally and Sherlock. 

“Is that allowed?” John asked tiredly, lifting his head off the glass and blinking as the light invaded his eyes. 

Sally pursed her lips and opened her mouth but Sherlock interrupted her, “She confessed to hacking in to every private, public and government electronic device, and broadcasting a hoax video of one of the biggest criminal masterminds in the history of London.” Sherlock said quietly. His voice betrayed him though and John heard what he wasn’t saying. 

This was his last chance to talk to her before she was placed in jail, or rather Mycroft’s custody. 

John nodded and followed Sally as she led him, not to the interrogation room but to Lestrade’s office. 

“I thought…”

Sally turned to him, a sad smile on her face. “Thought you might like some privacy.” John blinked as she nudged him in to the office and closed the door, essentially locking him in the room with his wife. 

His wife- the complete stranger. 

She was sitting on a chair in front of Lestrade’s desk, her swollen belly making it difficult for her to stand for too long. She stared right at him, her eyes taking in everything that she could and John licked his lips as he glanced at the closed blinds. He had never seen Lestrade’s blinds closed and he thought again about how much he owed that man. He should buy him a pint this week. 

“John…”

“Don’t.” John said shortly. He wanted to stay strong, wanted to demand answers, but he was so damn tired about everything. “I told you, I told you your past was your past, I said I didn’t want to know and I forgave you….but I don’t….” John licked his lips again and bit out a bitter laugh, “were you working for him the whole bloody time or am I not as big of a fool as I feel? “

Mary shook her head. “Oh John, I never worked for him. This has nothing to do with Moriarty.” 

Anger flared within him- he had always struggled with his temper, as did the rest of the Watsons, some better than others. The last thing he wanted from her was to be spoken to as if this was his fault, that if he was more clever he would understand what was going on. While that was the case sometimes, even Sherlock himself said he only had one theory and he seemed tentative at best. 

The last thing he needed from the woman he had married, who was carrying his child, who had betrayed him yet again- was to be spoken to like an idiot. 

John straightened up- ready to vocalize his anger at the way she was speaking to him- but then he caught sight of her face, of the sad look in her eyes and he paused, nodding instead. “What does it have to do with Mary? Because I just found out my wife is yet again a stranger.” 

Mary closed her eyes for a moment, letting her body sag slightly as she leaned back in the chair, her hands resting on top of her stomach. 

“I created the video because I knew it was the only thing that could save Sherlock.” John’s eyes widened, his mouth gaped and shock filled his senses. 

“Save Sherlock?” 

“He was being sent on a suicide mission. He was never going to come back John, he was going to be killed-“

“Since when do you care about what happens to Sherlock?” John asked, his voice harsh, never having fully forgiven her for shooting him, regardless of her reasons. 

“This isn’t about how I feel about Sherlock. John. ” Mary said. 

“Well than tell me what it is about! Because I am, once again, left without a clue as to what’s going on, while the people I care about make decisions that affect my life!” John shouted, his anger taking over again. 

Mary sighed, bringing a hand up to her temple and softly rubbing it. “Sherlock killed himself to save your life, twice.”

“What are you talking about? Twice?” John asked, eyebrows raised, “I think I would know if Sherlock-“

“He was being sent on a suicide mission John. He knew he would either be sent to jail, where he would inevitably figure out a clever way to kill himself, or he would be sent on the suicide mission.” 

“And how do you know about the suicide mission?”

Mary stared at him, face blank. “Oh for-“ John threw his hands in the air, “ This is bloody ridiculous. So you did this, let the world think that Moriarty was back, so that you could save Sherlock’s life?” John asked, Mary cringing at the hopeful tone of his voice. 

She smiled sadly and shook her head, glancing down at her hands. “No. Don’t think for a moment that I am a good person John. I did this for completely selfish reasons.” She brought her gaze up to John’s, staring in to his eyes, “I am a selfish woman who would stop at nothing to keep you.” She said, her tone dark with something John had not heard since the Leinster Gardens. 

“Well, what good is having me if you are locked up?” John asked incredulously. 

Mary shook her head. “Oh John. You forget that I was there, I watched you grieve, I watched you try to move on with your life, I saw how difficult it was for you…how hard it was everyday to-“

“Stop.” John said, voice shaking again. “What, does that,” he paused, took a breath, “have anything to do with this?” 

“It has everything to do with this. I never knew how happy you could be, how sad you were- how much you kept back- until I saw you and Sherlock together again, once you knew he was alive and your anger cleared. I saw everything. I want you John, all of you. I didn’t want to have to sit there and watch you whither away or pretend to be happy, and know that I had something that I could have done to stop it.”

Silence stretched on, while John stared at his wife, emotions and thoughts in a chaotic swirl. 

“And you think it will be easy for me to live without you? I told you, you were the-“

“Best thing to happen to you, I remember.” Mary said, smiling at him for a moment before her eyes turned sad. “But that was when you thought Sherlock was dead, because when he was dead and gone- I was the best thing to happen to you, and we both know that I am the only thing that kept you alive.” John blinked but Mary continued on. 

“After seeing the two of you together, reading your blog, and hearing all of your stories- seeing your dynamic-I just knew that I was not the best.”

John laughed and threw his hands up. “You too? For the love of- even my own wife thinks I am gay?” John shouted. 

“No John, I never said you were gay. But you do love Sherlock, and he is the best thing that ever happened to you. He is your miracle, and you are his.” She said, voice strong, as she looked him in the eye. “By all means, tell me if I am wrong. If you really believe that what I said wasn’t the truth, please, tell me.” She said, her voice unwavering, she knew the truth, whether he would admit or deny it. 

Their eyes locked for a while, neither looking away, both trying to read the other. John pursed his lips and nodded his head slightly. Mary smiled weakly. 

“Right. I didn’t make it this long without learning how to read people, and their weaknesses. If the secret service hadn’t shown up, would you have?”

John cleared his throat. “Would I have what?”

“Killed Magnusson.” John furrowed his eyebrows, confused. 

“What?”

Mary smiled. “And yet you killed a man for Sherlock a day after you met him.”

John’s mouth gaped open before anger clouded his face. “Now listen, that is not fair. That is not the same. Just because I didn’t bloody kill someone didn’t mean I would have let you get hurt.” John bit out. 

Mary nodded. “I know. And yet, Sherlock, sociopathic Sherlock, killed him.”

“Yes and you repaid him quite nicely, throwing away the life that he saved for you.” 

Mary barked out a laugh this time, her eyes crinkling as she stared at John in amused disbelief. “Amazing. You really believe that? You believe that he killed Magnusson for me? John it had nothing to do with me, he did it for you. And that is why, that is why I had to do this. Because Sherlock Holmes, self-proclaimed sociopath, shot a man to save your life when he knew it would end in his death. He killed himself to save you again. And I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something to prevent it.” 

A knock on the door interrupted them, followed by Sally’s voice. “Five more minutes.” 

Mary sighed, her hand rubbing her belly, drawing John’s attention to it, to where his unborn daughter was probably moving around at this time.

“What’s going to happen?” John asked softly, eyes fixated on Mary’s hand. 

“I could go to Court I suppose, or more likely I will be offered some type of offer.” She shrugged, her hand pausing on her stomach as she stared at it, smiling. 

“That sounds ominous.” 

Mary raised an eyebrow. “Yes well, if you had read the USB this would make more sense.” Mary shrugged. “Although I am so sincerely glad that you didn’t, and really, thank you.” Mary said. 

“But don’t worry, they will keep me safe until I have the baby, and then you will take care of her.” Mary smiled down at her stomach. 

“And you don’t care that you will barely see your daughter?” John asked, he couldn’t imagine walking away from his daughter at that moment. 

Mary raised her eyebrows. “I think the last place I should be is around an innocent baby. Let’s be honest John, I am not exactly maternal, I would be absolutely rubbish as a mum.” She smiled sadly at him and he blinked, averting his gaze as the reality sunk in. 

“Why are you talking as if you are going to….” He trailed off. She sighed. 

“I told you John, I am a selfish woman. I want you, and I want to be the only one to have you. I did this for myself because I couldn’t stand the thought of having to watch you mourn all over for you best friend. Or worse, keep thinking he is going to come back when I know he is long gone. So yes, I did this, knowing it would bring Sherlock back, knowing I would get caught, knowing I would be giving up the opportunity of caring for our daughter. But at least I will have you, and I will never have to see you torn up again.” 

John sucked in a breath, took a step forward and grabbed her hand, hoisting her up carefully and wrapping her in his arms. 

“You are the barmiest woman I know.” John said. “And I have seen Mrs. Hudson while she is on “herbal soothers.””

Mary giggled, tucking her head underneath John’s chin. “I will miss this.” She whispered, John’s grip tightening. 

John sighed as he inhaled her scent, trying not to think about how this may be the last time he did. “I don’t think I will ever understand you.” He said honestly. 

She pulled back slightly, lifting her hand and placing it on the side of his face. “You understood what was important. And you cared more than anyone I had ever met. Thank you John, for finally giving me a fairy tale ending.” 

**

John couldn’t exactly say he remembered everything that happened the next few months. It all went by in a rather fast blur. He ended up permanently back at Baker Street, and he and Sherlock were immediately back in the swing of it. 

Of course he hadn’t really thought of what life would be like at Baker Street with a baby. 

When he received the phone call from Mycroft in the middle of the night that Mary was being transferred to the hospital he flew out of bed, Sherlock holding out his coat as they sped towards a cab. 

The hospital was also a blur, Mary giving labor way too fast for it to be her first child, which got him a sad look and a whispered sorry from her, and he really wondered how much he actually knew about his wife. 

But there was a strong cry, and a flurry of limbs and a little baby was thrust in his arms and he felt his heart explode as he looked in to her eyes.. His baby girl. 

He and Mary had coo-ed over the bundle, until they had sent her away for her tests, even though she was very healthy according to everyone who had examined her, John included. 

He kissed Mary on the forehead and hurried out to the waiting room, to let Sherlock know what was going on, of course he wasn’t sitting there. John was disappointed, he wasn’t surprised that Sherlock had found the waiting bored, but he thought the occasion would’ve been worth it. 

He shrugged and walked to the nursery, hoping to see if his baby girl was there yet. He turned the corner and froze. In front of him was a sight that would never be erased from his memory. 

Sherlock was standing in front of the glass, his eyes wide, and mouth open in almost amazement as he stared at the little “baby Watson” in the carrier on the other side. Sherlock looked as if he had just solved a 10, locked room, triple homicide. But he hadn’t he was simply staring at John’s child. 

John walked up and stood next to him, silently as he stared at his child, amazed that she was there. 

John looked up at Sherlock and the man stared at him, and John smiled, and if Sherlock’s smile was more like a grimace and a tear fell from his eye, well John certainly wasn’t holding it against him. 

**

If John had realized that kiss to the forehead was the last interaction he would have with Mary, he…well he didn’t know what he would have done. 

John stared straight ahead, trying to get his mind to work, to process what was being said, but he couldn’t. For the life of him he couldn’t remember if he had enough formula to last the rest of the day. 

“I believe your doctor is in shock.” Mycroft commented, tapping his finger on the handle of his ever-present umbrella. 

Sherlock shot him a glare and looked at John, not hiding the concern. “John, you’re not really going in to shock are you? I can throw a blanket over you if that would make you feel better.” Sherlock said, flinging himself off of his chair and pulling the throw off the back of the couch. He came over and wrapped it around John’s arms, taking care to tuck him in properly. 

“There, he has the shock-resistant blanket.” Sherlock looked at John, and opened his mouth but a soft cry prevented him from speaking and all three men looked at the monitor on the table. 

“I will get her.” Sherlock said and he flew out of the room. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes at his brother but noticed that John was staring intently at the baby monitor, and the two were quiet as Sherlock spoke soothingly to the child. 

“Your sleeping pattern is developing quite well Minnie.” Mycroft noted that John smiled at the term, shaking his head. 

Mycroft had received an irate phone call from John two days after his child had been born. “Yes Doctor?” 

“Your bloody brother signed off on the birth certificate!” John shouted through the phone. Mycroft raised his eyebrows, pouring himself a drink for this conversation. 

“If you have a problem with him putting himself as the mother than simply tell him that biology doesn’t-“

John’s spluttering interrupted Mycroft’s speech. “I wasn’t talking about that! They saw Mary give birth, they wouldn’t let Sherlock put his name down as mother that is absurd! Although they did let him sign off on the name-bugger-let me call you back.” 

Mycroft smiled at the memory. John had ran to the room and double checked the birth certificate, surprised to see the spot for mother blank, although Sherlock did make a convincing argument for why he should be named mother. 

“I am not in shock.” John said- breaking Mycroft from his reverie. “She told me she was a selfish woman, she must have known this was going to happen.” John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Your father and Mycroft are discussing things right now so we will just have to stay here for the time being. What nonsense would you like to read this time?” 

John smiled as Sherlock’s voice came over the monitor, it was amazing how he spoke to the baby as if she were an adult, then again he did show Archie pictures of dead bodies so he shouldn’t be surprised. 

“I look at her and I don’t understand, how someone could give that away.” John said softly, not looking away from the monitor. 

“One would assume she was tired of running and afraid of corrupting something so….delicate.” Mycroft mused quietly. 

John paused and slowly turned to look at him. “Was it really, actually that horrible?” John asked. Mycroft stared back at him, face blank for a minute before he realized John wasn’t going to look away. 

“Sherlock forbid me from interfering.” Mycroft said, somewhat tightly. John rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, and while I believe Sherlock for once didn’t snoop, I know that nothing would have stopped you from investigating the woman who shot your brother.” 

Mycroft stared back at John, only a slight tightening of his jaw giving anything away.  
“The late…. woman you knew as Mary Morstan’s…. indiscretions…. were….” Mycroft sighed, leaning back on the balls of his feet as he looked down at John. “Not suited for children.” He finished. 

John hummed, looking back at the monitor, letting Sherlock’s voice sooth him. 

“I will never understand it will I?” John asked. 

Mycroft hesitated, his attention half on his brother’s voice, calmly reading to a baby while his best friend bluntly spoke about the death of his ex-wife. 

“Understanding is not all it cracks up to be.” Mycroft said. “It is not easy knowing and understanding humans…. there are vile people out in the world John.” 

John pursed his lips, giving a small nod. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling at the moment, and didn’t particularly feel like he wanted to. “Do I need to sign anything?” 

“No, I am afraid that any will that she did have is mostly irrelevant due to the rather large sum of money she owes to the British Government. I would not hold out hope for any residue, although if there is I was told she left it all to you.” 

“I don’t want it- I will waive it, if waiving it will make everything easier- give me the paperwork.” Mycroft nodded slightly, eyes flickering to the monitor as Sherlock’s story telling continued to filter in. 

“I will have someone come by with the paperwork.” Mycroft straightened his tie, ready to bide his leave. John stood and followed him to the door. “Do apologize to Sherlock that I had to leave without saying goodbye.”

“I am sure he will be devastated.” Said John, smiling at Mycroft as he rolled his eyes. 

“Give Minnie my regards.” Mycroft said, tipping his head before opening the door and stepping out. 

John watched him walk down the stairs, before he called out to him, and Mycroft paused, turning on the stairs to look at him. “Yes John?”

“Why did you let Mary live?” John asked, “After she shot Sherlock, why didn’t you-I just she shot your brother. And, well. You had to have known who she was right? I mean you know everything, everyone, and yet the woman I married- you didn’t know she was an assassin?” 

Mycroft stared at him, his face completely blank and for a moment John wished he hadn’t asked, hadn’t acted as though his getting married was the type of thing that would be high on Mycroft’s list of priorities. It wasn’t as if Mycroft even came to his wedding after all. 

“John, consider yourself blessed for being the younger sibling, albeit of an immature alcoholic.” Mycroft paused, thinking, but sighed, changing his course. “I admit, I was completely aware of her past, and had come to the trusted conclusion that she was retired.”

John bristled- “and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Mycroft gave him a bored look. “Please, it wasn’t as if we took tea regularly or went out to a pub together on week nights. You couldn’t tolerate my presence after the role I took in-“ Mycroft paused, pursing his lips. “I had reliable information that she was not a danger to you and that you were…happy.” Mycroft gave him an insincere, almost pained looking smile. 

“As much as I would love to be omnipotent, my influence has limits and I assure you that I had no knowledge of who was behind Sherlock’s shooting until she was already in custody.” Mycroft’s eyes grew hard, “You are right John, if I had known…well my brother’s life is rather important, and the last thing I want to do is upset Mummy.” 

John simply stared back, not knowing if he should say anything or just process everything alone. Mycroft made the decision for him by tipping his head and turning to walk down the remaining steps. John heard the door click and the unmistakable sound of Mycroft straightening the doorknocker. 

**

John should have expected it. He should have been prepared for it. It was obviously a likely scenario, and once the news was delivered to him he couldn’t believe he had been so naïve. But that didn’t stop the worry from enveloping him, from creeping up his esophagus and threatening any oxygen from entering his body. 

The only thing that stopped the panic was his daughter’s gummy smile as she reached for the bottle in his hand. He blinked and adjusted her so that she could lie back in the crook of his arm and drink. 

Sherlock sat across from him, his fingers steeped under his chin, and his eyes boring in to John. Or at least, that is how John imagined him to look…he found he was unable to actually raise his eyes and take in the site of his best friend. 

They had finally gotten to a good place after everything that had happened to them. Moriarty, the Fall, the return, the wedding, Magnussen, Mary…they had finally been able to settle down and return their lives back to the normal they used to know. Or at least, as close to their former normal as they could get with a newborn wailing at every turn. 

But now, John’s heart ached and he could feel a phantom pain shoot up his leg, the bottle trembling ever so slightly in John’s left hand. If Sherlock noticed he allowed John this moment of weakness without pointing it out. 

Minnie finished drinking and John put the bottle on the side table beside his chair, turning his baby girl so that he could lightly pat her back. 

Inevitably, his eyes floated up and met Sherlock’s and they both almost sagged, bodies physically mourning the news that Mycroft had resignedly told Sherlock this morning. 

“How long?” John asked, voice quiet- horse- as if he had spent the whole morning scream singing in the shower like he used to do in college. 

Sherlock’s face didn’t change as his shoulders shrugged. “A few months.” 

John could feel every nerve in his heart pound, his mind going back to the roof and then the tarmac, both moments when Sherlock was ready to give his life for John, and now here he was, about to do it again. 

“And…” John paused, clearing his throat and licking his lips, taking the moment to glance at his shoulder and see whether Minnie had spit up or if he would actually be able to wear a shirt for a few more hours. She turned to look at him and let out a soft burp, the unfortunate formula smell unpleasantly wafting to him. 

He adjusted her so that she was lying in his arm again, and he found, in his most cowardly fashion, that it was much easier to have this conversation with his eyes on his daughter, and not on Sherlock. 

“Will it-actually-or.” John closed his eyes. “Don’t lie to me- not this time.” 

Silence. 

John’s breath quickened. “And did-“

“Everything within his power.” Sherlock’s voice cut out, cutting John off. His tone was defensive, and if the mood weren’t so low John would have smiled at Sherlock’s unintentional protectiveness of his brother. 

“It was either this or a term in Pentonville.” 

John couldn’t help it, even though he knew, probably better than anyone, how stir crazy Sherlock would get in a prison and how short his lifespan would be if he was forced to Pentonville- he couldn’t help the hope that soared through him. 

“How long a term?” John asked, trying- and failing- to keep the hope from seeping through his voice. “Pentonville is only a short walk from here.”

Sherlock pursed his lips, eyes looking almost regretful. “I would miss Minnie’s college graduation at the very least, if not her doctoral ceremony as well.” 

John felt the hope diminish inside him at once. No, diminish was too simple, quiet, fading. The hope didn’t fade; it crashed down towards the pit of his stomach and sank like a rock so low that he could feel it down to his toes. 

Sherlock couldn’t last that long locked up. John couldn’t last that long knowing that Sherlock was locked up. 

“Awfully sure she is going to be a doctor?” John asked suddenly, not able to continue with his disheartening train of thought. 

Sherlock snorted. “Well, I doubt she will want to follow in my footsteps. You are the likely role model. You are her father after all.” 

John sighed, it still amazed him that Sherlock was so ignorant at times to his own self worth. “You know, for an overly arrogant, self-absorbed git, you can be bloody ignorant about how brilliant you are.” 

John looked up as he said it, wanting Sherlock to see and hear the conviction behind his words. Sherlock’s mouth parted and he stared at John blankly before nodding slightly. 

“Three months. Tops.” Sherlock said suddenly. John fought the flinch and instead nodded, looking down at Minnie who by now was dozing softly. John almost went to go put her in her crib and jump in to bed, knowing how valuable her napping was, but the conversation was too important. 

“I cannot….” Sherlock paused, John heard him fidget in his seat, causing him to straighten his own posture and prepare himself for whatever Sherlock was going to say next. “I cannot make any promises to the future John, beyond what I have already vowed. “ 

John froze, mind going back to Sherlock’s toast at his wedding, then the beautiful almost heartbreakingly beautiful music he had written for the event, and his parting words, spoken with such promise that even being reminded of them made John feel safe. 

“I should be with you.” John said, leaning his head back, staring at the ceiling, the weight of his daughter reminding him exactly why he could not be with Sherlock. 

Sherlock snorted. “Obvious. I am lost without my blogger.” Sherlock said, voice light but not teasing, as it normally would be when speaking those words. “Unfortunately I have been informed that it is a matter of national security and I don’t believe the British government would take kindly to your romanticizing my secret excursions all over the Internet.” 

John closed his eyes, thinking about Mary’s face in Lestrade’s office as she rubbed her extended belly and tried to get him to understand what she had done. But it didn’t make sense, because surely Mary had realized the British government would not just shrug and allow Sherlock to walk away scot-free after shooting someone in cold blood… did she really think one false alarm regarding Moriarty would be the end of their problems?

“Mary was clever. She showed an impressive ability to hack in to databases, she knew what was lined up, and she still had contacts all over the world. These things are rarely sudden and unexpected, months of planning go in to them and someone always talks.” 

“People do little else.” John mumbled, and he opened his eyes as he heard Sherlock snort in laughter. The urge to giggle was upon him, as he looked at Sherlock’s open face, his curls in disarray and his eyes bright. 

Instead of giggling John felt himself yawn and Sherlock smiled softly at him. “Why don’t you give her to me and go rest?” 

John hesitated for a moment before nodding. He had learned quickly that when you were given the opportunity to sleep as a new parent, you should always take it. He stood up, walking over and gently placing Minnie in Sherlock’s arms. 

John slowly moved his hands so they weren’t under his daughter, and they dragged along Sherlock’s arms and chest as he stood up from his crouch. He looked down at Minnie, still sleeping peacefully as she curled in to Sherlock’s arm and he couldn’t help the mixed feelings of happiness, regret, and sadness that welled in him. Sherlock would miss months of this, months that were so critical in a baby’s development. Sherlock who loved every second of cataloguing Minnie’s growth would miss so much. And Minnie, who was always comforted by Sherlock, would have to deal with not having him. 

Long fingers slowly grabbed on John’s hand, enclosing it softly and squeezing. John closed his eyes, not wanting to show Sherlock how deeply he was affected by all of this. It was his fault that Sherlock was even in this position. Sherlock had shot Magnussen for him, to ensure John’s happiness, and now he would have to go risk his life to do goodness only knows what. 

“Go to sleep.” Sherlock whispered. 

John took a deep breath and slowly pulled his hand away from Sherlock. The walk to his room was slow, but he refused to let himself think or dwell on anything as he flopped down on his bed, especially not how miserable he felt now and how he had felt barely a fraction of this pain when Mary was put in jail. The second his head hit the pillow he immediately fell asleep. 

** 

John had been expecting the worse. Especially since he had been in ignorant bliss earlier. A terrible thing to say considering only a few months before he had lost his wife, but he had long since realized that his life was anything but ordinary, and coping was unique to each situation and person. He learned to not judge himself or his grief. 

But he still expected the worst-case scenario. He had been expecting a phone call or appearance from Mycroft any day now, the same apologetic look that had been on his face when John had confronted him years ago after the fall. 

He had run in to Molly the week that Sherlock left, whether it was coincidence or planned by one of the Holmes, John couldn’t say, but he also didn’t mind. She had been her normal awkward friendly self and had inquired about Minnie, who was sleeping in the carriage that John was pushing. 

John had smiled and discussed his daughter, and Molly had expertly steered the conversation from any mention of Sherlock or anything unpleasant, which was quite unexpected considering she almost always said the wrong thing. Then again, John supposed he had always underestimated her, which was the main reason he had been so shocked that she had known that Sherlock was alive all those years. 

He tried very hard not to be bitter. But- he also couldn’t help remembering that during one of the most painful times of his life, she had known, and had left him suffer. 

Yet, if he could forgive Sherlock he really needed to forgive Molly. Then again, Sherlock was Sherlock and Molly was…well…not Sherlock. 

“-John?” John blinked, and tilted his head as he realized Molly was asking him something. 

He coughed. “Right- sorry- what?” 

Molly blushed. “It’s just- I asked you if you ever wanted, that is if you felt comfortable, I could always, if you needed a break…” 

John narrowed his eyes as he tried to decipher what she was saying to him. Then- it dawned on him and his eyes widened as he took a step back- putting some distance between them. 

“Molly I um, appreciate, but we are friends, and well….” John was normally very smooth with women, it was no secret, but he couldn’t quite speak clearly in light of Molly’s proposal. 

Her eyes grew wide and her face turned bright red and she shook her head, laughing as she took in John’s expression and what he had obviously thought she meant. “No, John- I am not.” Molly laughed again. “I was asking if you wanted me to ever baby sit for a tick, not if you needed some satisfaction. I am a modern girl and all but I wouldn’t proposition you with a baby a foot away and Sherlock not around.” 

John chuckled embarrassedly as he scratched the back of his neck, pulling a face as he registered her words. “What does Sherlock being around have anything to do with this?”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Honestly, the two of you.” She said but offered no other explanation, even though John waited for one. “So, how’s about it?” 

John let it go and instead considered her offer. While it was true he trusted Molly, even though she had betrayed him, it was even more significant that Sherlock had entrusted her with his life without thought and that made John consider he proposal. 

“Have you every watched a baby?” John asked, he might trust her with his life, but the life of a baby was something else. 

Molly nodded. “Of course- would be scared to offer otherwise, I am not a loon. I have loads of nieces and nephews, I’ve watched them all when they were in nappies. “ 

And that was how John found himself across from Lestrade, drinking down a pint and watching the match. John liked drinking with Greg because he didn’t natter away, but when they did talk it was always interesting. 

A commercial break came on and Lestrade took the opportunity to interrogate John while he was knocking back the rest of his pint. It had been a while since he had one. 

“So how long till his majesty gets back? Any word from him?” 

John shrugged. “A few months I think.” 

A loud beeping noise alerted from Lestrade’s phone and John’s. John dove for his- immediately thinking the worst about Molly and Minnie but he was intrigued to find a text from an unknown number that simply said “wrong”.

“Huh.” John said, looking down at his phone. “That is odd.” 

Lestrade, however, had narrowed eyes and was squinting around the room, almost as if he was looking for someone. 

“Are you looking for someone-did someone text you to meet up? You dog- coulda just told me you were looking to pull.” John smiled and winked at Lestrade but the man scoffed. 

“There is no one here I would pull- besides I am thinking the wife might want to move back in.” 

Their phones beeped again and John narrowed his eyes at his text while Lestrade rolled his. “Now this is-who is texting you? I just keep getting “wrong”

Lestrade rolled his eyes again. “Really John, you can drop the act, I know that you know what is going on.” 

This time just Lestrade’s phone beeped. “Wrong.” 

“Bloody hell.” Lestrade stood up and scanned the pub, glaring at the tall figure standing in the shadows. “You git- stop lurking and come have a pint.” 

John looked confused as he turned around in his stool, trying to see who Lestrade was speaking to. The man stepped forward and John instantly began smiling as he took in the Belstaff and the mop of curly hair. 

Sherlock walked over and sat down on the stool between the two men, raising an eyebrow at the empty beer glasses but keeping his opinion to himself. 

“You gotta tell me how you do that.” Lestrade cut in before anyone else could speak. “It has to be illegal. Actually-“ Lestrade took a big gulp of his drink, “don’t tell me how you do it. I probably shouldn’t know.” 

Sherlock smirked and looked over at John who was staring at him with his most “you are brilliant” expression on. “I thought you would be gone for another few months.” 

Sherlock waived his hand. “Obvious- that is what I told you. But I finished early.” 

“So is that it then?” John asked hopefully. 

Sherlock paused, eyes flicking to Lestrade’s briefly but he realized he couldn’t care less what Lestrade said. “I had to agree to take an “in-house” position, much to my chagrin and Mycroft’s smug attitude, but it’s nothing that requires…travel.” Sherlock said. 

John beamed, standing up and clapping his hands. “Well gents, I do say that calls for a round- on me!” 

John spun and practically skipped to the bar. Sherlock ignored Lestrade’s smile pointed at him. 

“Are you two-“

“Still with the PE teacher, sometimes the art teacher joins in.” 

**

Life continued on. They slowly were able to take cases again, although neither of them were very comfortable leaving Minnie alone with anyone else for too long, especially while they were chasing after dangerous criminals. 

They had both been injured, and both were aware of the dangers that faced them at every turn, and the devastating effects of what could happen if they were both injured. 

They stopped being foolishly reckless. It was not easy. Old habits die hard and it was often difficult to remember to be cautious when a serial rapist was trying to get away from them and John knew that if he pushed himself a little he could tackle him, knock the knife from his hand, and prevent him from claiming another victim. 

But they did try. 

And slowly, it began to work. They had a hodgepodge of babysitters, from Mrs. Hudson when she felt up to it, to Mrs. Turner’s married ones who treated Minnie like she was their own, and all of the in between like Molly when she had time, Janine who warmed back up to the residents of 221B after she heard all of the details, and of course Angelo who was so overjoyed when they first asked him that he cried every time he saw them for a week. 

There was also the “pro-bono” work that Sherlock was required to do in lieu of a prison sentence. He was normally able to do the work from their living room and a fancy looking lap top but occasionally he would disappear and go to whatever secret location the government held their operatives in. 

John couldn’t deny that he was often very jealous and also extremely intrigued that Sherlock was essentially somewhat of a bondman. Of course Sherlock rolled his eyes and scoffed whenever John brought it up- mocking him for his dreadful taste in entertainment. 

Minnie slowly grew, developing so quickly that John felt like one moment he was holding her new wrinkly body in his arms and then next he was watching her zoom around the flat in her little walker. She wasn’t able to walk without the assistance of the rolling chair but it still amazed him how fast she could move around in it. 

With her being mobile a whole slew of other problems arose, mostly due to Sherlock’s inability to keep dangerous items out of the way of grabby hands. But they quickly adapted and Sherlock for once did not protest when John began storing his equipment and chemicals, clearly labeling them and putting them high up. 

Which of course spurred Sherlock in to storing John’s things in high places that even John could not reach, and then pretending not to laugh as John struggled to get his belongings down. 

“Hilarious.” John mumbled from where he stood on a chair in front of the kitchen cabinets, reaching up to try and get his favorite mug. 

Life was content, warm and happy and John found himself relishing in every moment. He knew by now that these times should never be taken for granted- especially not in the unpredictable life that they live. 

Which was really why he shouldn’t have been surprised when Minnie began calling both him and Sherlock da-da. It was so natural, and just seemed right that he just went with it, and even encouraged it. 

When John first handed Minnie to Sherlock and said “here go to Dada Min, I need to get dinner ready,” Sherlock had held Minnie to him and just stared straight ahead, unmoving as he tried to process what just happened. 

John simply smiled, humming to himself as he prepared their dinner. He was used to Sherlock’s irregular method of dealing with unexpected emotion and sentiment and instead of being alarmed, it actually pleased him, making him put more effort in to his cooking. 

That night after Minnie had been put to bed Sherlock had slowly walked over to his violin stand and began to play it, slowly and lightly. John felt his eyes grow heavy as he tried to continue reading his medical journal, even as his body fought him to go to sleep. 

“It was not my intention to try and take your role as father.” Sherlock said suddenly, causing John to jolt and drop his book. Apparently he was more asleep than he had realized. 

“What?” John asked, yawning as his brain tried to process what Sherlock was saying. 

“In fact, I think that it would be wise to deter that sort of thinking on Minnie immediately, God John, I would be dreadful as a father. I could not think of anything worse that I could do to your child then to inflict myself as a parent upon her.” 

John narrowed his eyes as he finally realized what Sherlock was getting at. He yawned again, wishing he wasn’t half asleep for this conversation, but at the same time glad so that his temper would simmer below the surface. 

“You are an idiot.” John said, resting his elbow against the arm of his chair and resting his temple against the fist of his hand. “Minnie is days away from being a year old Sherlock. You already are her parent, I cannot prevent something that already happened.” 

Sherlock shook his head, removing the violin from his shoulder. “No John, I am simply here as your roommate and as your roommate I assist you in your needs, including those of your child.” 

John snorted, smiling fondly at Sherlock. “What was it you said to me when we first shacked up?” Sherlock shrugged. “You said, not to theorize before you have the facts and to fit a theory to the facts you have- not to twist your facts to fit a theory. Well, tell me Sherlock, you dreadful man- what do I do differently as a parent that you do not do for Minnie?”

Sherlock opened his mouth- no doubt a tirade planned- but John watched, smile widening as Sherlock’s eyes flickered rapidly back and forth, clearly trying to come up with a difference in their circumstances. Eventually he snapped his mouth shut, his eyes narrowed and confused. 

“Right. Whatever remains, no matter how improbably must be the truth. Or whatever. You get what I am saying. You have been there with me every step of the way. You get up and take care of her when I am knackered, you feed her, change her, play with her, read to her- hell she doesn’t even tolerate the sound of my gravely voice anymore compared to you and your….” John waived his hand. 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “My what?”

John rolled his eyebrows and straightened in his seat, moving his head from his hand. “You have a sinful voice and you know it, you use it on cases all the time- stop fishing.” 

Sherlock didn’t even try to look embarrassed and John grinned, showing that he was only teasing. 

“My point, you narcissist, is that you already are a parent to Minnie. She called you her dada and that is what you are, and neither I or her would want it any other way.” 

John closed his eyes as Sherlock slowly brought his violin up to his chin and resumed his song. What felt like hours flew by with just the sound of the violin between them, until Sherlock said quietly. 

“It is not conventional…people will talk.” 

John smiled sleepily, eyes remaining closed. “Let them.” 

**

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think that while Mary definitely has a bad streak, after seeing how much Sherlock sacrificed for John and how miserable John was without him, she would try to redeem herself and give our boys the happiness they deserve. Wishful thinking :) I hope you enjoyed it!


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